


Here Comes the Sun

by doctorbuffypotterlock79



Series: Teachers AU [1]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Crafts, F/F, Fluff, Lesbian AU, Teacher AU, a little plot as a treat, guinea pigs, ive been isolating for 3 weeks and wrote this to cope, spring fling week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23447719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorbuffypotterlock79/pseuds/doctorbuffypotterlock79
Summary: Brooke and Vanessa are two kindergarten teachers who both have crushes on each other. A storm and a borrowed umbrella may help love bloom between them.(For @writethehousedown Spring Fling Week 2020)
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Series: Teachers AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769065
Comments: 92
Kudos: 80





	1. Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! This is just pure fluff I wrote to get me through isolation. Everything will be available on @writethehousedown on tumblr for Spring Fling Week. I really hope you enjoy, and that it can maybe make you a little happy. Thank you to Writ for betaing and supporting this idea! Please leave feedback if you'd like, I really appreciate it.  
> Title from the song by the Beatles

It’s the rainiest spring on record, and Brooke Lynn Hytes has had it. 

There’s been all kinds of rain as March blurred into April: cold rain that plunked on her neck and drizzled down her back and left her teeth chattering all day; light sunshowers that distracted her kindergarteners and left them confused over the mix of sun and rain; a misting rain too light to justify an umbrella but enough to annoy her and ruin her hair. And today’s rain: a howling, window-rattling thunderstorm where rain hurled down from the sky and soaked you to the bone with or without an umbrella. 

And Brooke just happened to be without hers, so busy stopping the cats from jumping across the living room like they were completing an obstacle course that she forgot to grab it.

Brooke flinches as thunder rumbles outside. She’s disliked thunderstorms since she was a kid. Sometimes they would knock out the power lines, and the darkness scared her even more. She’d hide under her covers with an army of stuffed animals to protect her from the storm she was sure would explode through the windows and pull her in.

But she’s a grown woman now, and she can’t very well hide in bed and call in sick over a thunderstorm. 

With a deep breath, she emerges from the dry warmth of her car and runs for the back entrance of the school, holding her rain jacket closed as wind tugs at it, whipping her hair around and soaking her legs with chilly rain. The door feels farther with each step, each raindrop that pelts her face. 

“Hey, Brooke!” a gruff voice calls, loud enough to be heard over the howling rain. 

_Oh no._

Of all the teachers who could see Brooke looking like a drowned rat, why did it have to be Vanessa? Vanessa, the most popular teacher in school, always happy and energetic and exciting—she once wore bunny ears and launched jelly beans into the teacher's lounge before spring break—with a class of respectful and kind kids who showered her in holiday gifts each year, even after they graduated kindergarten. Vanessa, with her bright crafts lighting up the hallways and the kind smiles she gives Brooke every day at lunch and her rosy cheeks and warm brown eyes.

“Um, hi, Vanessa.” Brooke always feels special using Vanessa’s first name, like she has some secret power over everyone so used to calling her Ms. Mateo. She wonders if Vanessa likes when Brooke uses it, if it feels as special to her as it does when Vanessa calls her Brooke. 

“I got an umbrella, if you wanna share,” Vanessa offers. “You’re soaked.” 

“Oh, um, thank you.” Brooke’s not the best at asking for or accepting help, so used to her independence. But she’s already drenched, and Vanessa’s umbrella is just inches away, and Brooke nods. 

“You’ll have to hold it, though,” Vanessa says with an adorable laugh that makes Brooke’s heart flutter. “I’m too short to make it cover both of us.” Vanessa _is_ short, tiny enough for Brooke to scoop up and carry, something she’s thought about more than she cares to admit. 

Brooke smiles, accepting the handle of the bright flowered umbrella and lifting it over them both, grateful for a respite from the rain pounding on her head. 

They’re almost to the door when thunder booms through the sky, clapping in Brooke’s ears. She jumps at the noise, jostling the umbrella and bumping shoulders with Vanessa. “S-sorry,” Brooke grits out. “I’m just--”

“Not a fan of thunderstorms?” Vanessa guesses kindly. 

“Not really,” Brooke admits. At least Vanessa can’t see her blushing in the rain, but Vanessa doesn’t seem to mind that Brooke is afraid of thunderstorms. It’s not surprising, really. Vanessa is always quick to discourage bullying of any kind, helping her class be empathetic to others. She’s too nice to ever think less of Brooke for that. They finally reach the door, plastered with posters for the school’s annual carnation sale next week, and she ushers Vanessa inside. 

“Wanna warm up in my classroom? I got the best heat in the school,” Vanessa says. 

The heat in Vanessa’s room is legendary. For whatever reason, her room has three heating vents instead of two, and teachers and students alike clambered inside to soak up some warmth during the frigid, finger-numbing winters. Aside from the heat, Vanessa always has crafts in all the colors of the rainbow hanging on her walls, plus a class guinea pig named Bertha who loved having people pet her. 

Besides, Brooke has time before her class arrives, and her knees are shaking from the cold. A little warmth can’t hurt, not to mention some time with Vanessa. The idea alone makes her stomach flutter like a pack of butterflies let loose. Brooke just hopes she can think of something interesting to say, because even though she’s been working with Vanessa for two years and has wanted to say more, Brooke never had the nerve or the words for more than small talk.

Vanessa’s room is done up in an ‘April showers bring May flowers’ theme--Brooke hopes something good might at least come from all this rain--with dark blue raindrops covering half the wall and construction-paper flowers in bright reds, oranges, yellows, and pinks on the other half. 

The heating vent in the corner is huge, and Brooke lets the warmth blast at her damp black skirt and cold legs while Vanessa dumps her bag at her desk. 

Brooke can’t resist peeking at Vanessa’s desk. It’s much messier than Brooke’s, but it seems to be an organized chaos, markers and pens and papers strewn about almost intentionally. A tiny bi pride flag peeks out from Vanessa’s Pikachu mug, making Brooke wish for the courage to put a little lesbian flag on her own desk.

“How’s Bertha doing?” Brooke asks. 

“She’s good. She’ll be having her babies any day now. I’ve been taking her home just in case she has them at night.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot she was pregnant.”

Vanessa nods. “I brought her to a shelter while I was away for winter break. She found herself a man that knocked her up and then went back to his family. Typical, if you ask me.”

Brooke snorts. Vanessa slides up next to her, red sweater brushing Brooke’s white button down. “You want to hold her?”

“You don’t mind?”

“Nah. I don’t have to worry about you holding her like I do with my kids. One of them tried to reenact _The Lion King_ with her.” Vanessa leads her to the cage, where Bertha squeaks happily. Vanessa eases the ball of brown and white fluff into Brooke’s hands, their fingers brushing against each other, sending a jolt of heat through Brooke’s arm. 

She pets Bertha’s head, Vanessa slipping in close to pet her back, so close Brooke can hardly breathe. She can see the gleam in Vanessa’s eyes and the precise edge of the eyeliner Vanessa expertly applied, can smell the coconut shampoo she uses permeating her hair, frizzy from rain water on the top. 

The warning bell sounds, signaling that the teachers have 15 minutes before collecting their students from where they congregate in the gym. 

“Guess I better get going,” Brooke says. 

“Guess so.” It might be Brooke’s imagination, but Vanessa sounds equally sad to say goodbye to her. 

Vanessa nestles Bertha back in her cage and Brooke starts to leave. 

“Hey, Brooke?”

“Yeah?” 

“Why don’t you take my umbrella.” Vanessa extends it to her. “It’s supposed to rain all day. You’ll need it later.”

“Are you sure?” 

Vanessa nods. “No big deal. I got an extra, and I’ll see you tomorrow anyway.”

“Thank you, Vanessa. Really.” Brooke’s whole body is warm at Vanessa offering her the umbrella, and though she wants to protest, tell Vanessa to keep it, Brooke accepts. Because that way, she has a reason to talk to Vanessa tomorrow.


	2. Umbrella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke returns Vanessa's umbrella, and grows a little closer to her in the process

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the fluff fest continues in this chapter! Thank you to Writ for betaing! Please comment if you'd like!

Brooke can’t stop staring at Vanessa’s umbrella. She couldn’t get a good look in the rain, but it’s a vibrant, sunny yellow, the top home to bright purple flowers and soft green leaves and smiling red ladybugs. 

She grips the handle and pretends she’s holding Vanessa’s hand. She pictures Vanessa’s hand around hers in a storm, clenched tight in the pouring rain, or maybe relaxed, since rain didn’t seem to bother Vanessa much. Vanessa seems like the type to hum along to “Umbrella” and dance in the rain with woodland animals like a Disney princess, while Brooke gritted her teeth and somehow had raindrops hit her right in the eye. 

Eventually she has to put it down and get ready for work, shooting her fellow teacher Nina a text asking whether bringing Vanessa coffee and a muffin is too much of a thank you for an umbrella. 

_Nina West: I don’t think it’s too much._

_Nina West: It would be a good chance for you two to TALK_

_Nina West: Pretend I’m nudging your shoulder and winking_

Two winking emojis follow, and Brooke sighs. Nina, too observant to even be fair sometimes, had picked up on Brooke staring at Vanessa, Brooke losing focus on her lesson plans when Vanessa laughed during lunch, and has been pushing Brooke to talk to her for months. Brooke wishes she could, but being around Vanessa dries her throat out like the desert and plucks every thought from her head. 

_It’s just coffee_ , Brooke tells herself. _Just a thank you._

She heads out the door, twirling Vanessa’s umbrella in her hand. 

\---

Vanessa sighs as she enters the school, her shoes squelching even after she scraped them off on the carpet. “Good thing my lunch bag is waterproof. This rain is wild.” 

Silky rolls her eyes. “Maybe if you didn’t give your umbrella to Miss Brooke--”

“Hey!” Vanessa snaps. “I lied and told her I had an extra. I didn’t want it to look like I was letting her borrow my only umbrella because--”

“Because you’ve had a crush on her for years?” A’keria chimes in. 

Vanessa should’ve never told them she likes Brooke. It isn’t like she’s been discrete about her feelings, though, missing most of the faculty meetings because she couldn’t stop thinking about how cute Brooke looks while she takes notes. Brooke is so meticulous, her decorations looking like a machine made them, but it was just her own clever hands, and so dedicated to her students that she often stays as late as Vanessa to work on teaching plans or get crafts ready. Their classrooms share a wall, and though Brooke speaks softly, sometimes her voice travels through the open window, making Vanessa lose her train of thought to the amusement of thirty five-year-olds. 

Vanessa’s been trying to talk to her more, beyond discussing the weather or funny stuff their kids did, but it never seems to work. Brooke is always reading, or working on lesson plans, or looking so happy with her peanut butter and jelly sandwich that Vanessa couldn’t find a way in.

Vanessa unlocks her classroom door. “Have fun grading!” she teases, since A’keria and Silky co-teach fifth grade, where they had to read three-paragraph essays written by kids who had no idea what they were writing. “We’re counting with ladybug toys today.”

Both of them grumble before saying they’ll meet her at lunch. 

Vanessa’s classroom is an oasis, bright and joyous yet calm and peaceful. The back right corner is covered by a rug featuring a rainbow against a blue sky, the chair she uses to read to the kids in the center. Cubbies for the kids and shelves crammed with toys and games occupy the back left wall, along with a smaller rainbow rug for anyone who gets overwhelmed and needs a break. Long tables face the chalkboard, with a construction paper name tag (currently chicks for spring) for each kid. It’s the kind of classroom she would have liked as a kid and still likes now, especially the spring flowers along the walls. Her mom used to have an enormous flower garden that filled the whole backyard with sweet lavender and fresh rose scents. Vanessa would pick them and bring them in the house, tearing a few petals in her eager excitement. 

She picks up the LEGO blocks littering the rug--maybe she’ll have to sing the clean-up song with a little more vigor today--and puts Bertha’s cage in its usual spot. A knock tears her away, and she turns to see Brooke in her doorway, umbrella in one hand and a coffee cup and bag in the other. 

Vanessa’s heart lurches at the sight of her. “Morning, Brooke.” Vanessa takes any chance she can to use Brooke’s name, so used to calling her _Ms. Hytes_ in front of the kids that _Brooke_ feels special, like a gift, one that makes Vanessa warm inside. 

“Morning.” Brooke’s cheeks are bright pink and Vanessa warms even more. “Um, thank you again. For the umbrella. I brought you coffee. A-and a muffin.”

Vanessa takes the umbrella and lays it on one of the tables, accepting the coffee gratefully. Brooke even got her little packs of sugar and cream so she could make the coffee how she wanted it, and Vanessa’s heart gives that familiar tug it does around Brooke. “You didn’t have to do all that for me. Best believe I’m drinking it, but you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Brooke insists, handing her a chocolate chip muffin. Warmth radiates through the wrapper, and Vanessa sighs in pleasure, hoping Brooke didn’t hear her moaning over a muffin. 

“Thank you.” Vanessa looks up at Brooke, fingers nervously weaving through her blonde hair. “You want half with me?”

Brooke blushes as red as the construction-paper roses on Vanessa’s wall. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah! This thing’s bigger than my head.” Vanessa grabs a knife and two paper plates from her desk, motioning for Brooke to sit at one of the kid’s tables. Vanessa stifles a laugh as Brooke knocks her knees against the table, rearranging the chair and twisting her legs this way and that like a pretzel before she can sit at least somewhat comfortably. Vanessa plops down in the kid-sized chair like it’s a normal chair, prompting Brooke to laugh until she has tears in her eyes. 

“You’re so tiny!” Brooke teases. “Maybe you should use one of these chairs at your desk. You fit in them perfectly.”

“Hey!” Vanessa laughs. “I happen to be petite, thank you very much!”

Brooke just smiles, eyes wide in disbelief at them sitting here like this. Vanessa can hardly believe it either, cutting the muffin just so something in this feels real. 

The muffin is reduced to crumbs as she and Brooke talk about _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ , the minutes flying by. The warning bell rangs, cutting through the trance she and Brooke both seem to be in.

Brooke grabs her bags, and Vanessa decides to just go for it. She knows Brooke gets stuck in her head too much at times, that it might be hard for her to ask even if she’s given Vanessa several hints that she wants to. “Hey, Brooke? Do you maybe want to have lunch together tomorrow?” 

“I’d love that, Vanessa,” Brooke says with a smile. 

She says goodbye to Brooke, and when she looks out the window, the rain has come to a stop.


	3. Puddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa runs into some trouble with a puddle, and grows a little closer with Brooke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the support so far, and thank you to Writ for betaing! Please comment on this chapter if you'd like!

Lunch with Brooke. She’s going to have lunch with Brooke. 

Vanessa takes a little extra care with her outfit this morning, whipping out a black dress with red and purple flowers--it is spring, after all, even if the weather doesn’t want to cooperate--and hits her hair with enough spray to hold even if the rain returns. She goes with her black flats, because she likes being small next to Brooke, so small she could just nestle against her, so small that Brooke leans down ever so slightly to make sure Vanessa hears her when she talks. 

The sun hesitantly peeks out between the clouds, and Vanessa feels in each step that today is going to be a good day. She’s having lunch with Brooke. She finished her giant guinea pig craft, a sturdy foam board and fake fur recreation of Bertha, ready for the class to burst into oohs and aahs when they saw it. She forgets about the massive crater in the sidewalk that sends at least a dozen kids to the nurse with scrapes each year, that the school board has been promising to fix since the dawn of time. Pain in her knees means they broke her fall, and she’s so focused on holding onto the real Bertha in her carrying case that the craft guinea pig flies out of her grasp and slams into a puddle big enough to swim in with a loud _splat_. 

For a minute she stays on the ground, resisting the urge to cry as dirty puddle water soaks the foam. It’s stupid, really, to be near tears over a craft project, but she spent most of the night on it, laying down fake fur with all the care she gives to real Bertha, and she just wanted it to be perfect.

“Vanessa, are you okay?”

Cool hands help her up, and Vanessa knows from the long, pale fingers--fingers skilled enough to cut out delicate snowflakes other teachers wouldn’t even attempt, including coveted Baby Yoda ones last winter--that the hands belong to Brooke. 

Vanessa blinks away her daze as she stands. “I-I’m okay.”

“Your knees are a little scraped. The crater strikes again.”

Vanessa looks around Brooke’s shoulder into the puddle, heart sinking as she pulls out the craft. The entire thing is soaked with dirty gray water, fake fur clumped and tangled. 

“I guess that’s the end of that,” she mutters. 

“I’m sorry, Vanessa.” Brooke’s voice is so sincere it makes Vanessa shiver. “It’s Bertha, right?”

“It was. I was gonna have the kids make little ones and put them around her, like her babies. I guess I’ll have to do it another day.”

Brooke nods. “Why don’t we go inside? You can come in my room and I’ll fix up your knees. I have Batman Band-Aids,” she tempts. 

Vanessa smiles despite herself. “Say no more.”

\---

Vanessa perches herself on Brooke’s desk, which is much cleaner than hers. There’s neatly labelled trays for different papers, bins for markers and scissors, and a Totoro mug for pens and pencils. Vanessa hasn’t gotten a good look at Brooke’s classroom with its new spring decorations, and the bright colors keep her head spinning around while Brooke rubs cream on her knees. (Vanessa could have done it herself, really, but Brooke had offered in a nervous tone, desperate to help, and Vanessa agreed, touched by how much she wanted to help and unable to resist having Brooke’s hands touch her skin).

Bright green stems stretch up the classroom door, ending in tiny tulips and daffodils that each bear a student’s name. The walls are a construction paper animal kingdom come to life: white bunnies with cotton-ball tails hop around after carrots, yellow chicks splash water at each other, and red birds fly toward the ceiling (as high as they can go while still adhering to fire codes). 

“Tell me you didn’t even need a ladder to hang those birds,” Vanessa teases. 

Brooke applies the last Band-Aid, her hands soft and gentle. “I didn’t,” she admits, blush creeping into her cheeks. God, she’s adorable. 

“I’m assuming you have some trouble hanging things up?” Brooke prompts with a grin. 

Vanessa just sighs. “You know those warning signs saying not to stand on a stack of chairs, and you think, ‘what idiot would stand on a stack of chairs’?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m the idiot.” Vanessa cackles. “Tried to put my little alphabet signs over the chalkboard and went down like an avalanche. I was coughing up chalk dust for a month.”

Brooke bites her lip, like she’s afraid it would be rude to laugh, but when Vanessa starts, to let her know it’s okay, Brooke snorts so fiercely it makes Vanessa laugh even harder. 

“I’m sorry,” Brooke gasps between snorts, “but that’s hilarious. You know, if you need anything hung up, just ask me.”

“I’ll do that.” Vanessa flexes her knees, now tricked out with the Dark Knight. “You’re a Band-Aid pro, by the way. My knees feel a lot better.”

“Good.” Brooke smiles. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

“See you at lunch.”

It’s almost enough to make Vanessa forget about her ruined craft project. 

\---

Brooke’s kids are in art class with Miss Scarlet for the next 45 minutes, and she gets to work on her surprise for Vanessa. 

There’s no template big enough, which means she’ll have to draw a giant guinea pig freehand. Vanessa’s much better at drawing than Brooke, that’s for sure. She usually goes for the trace-and-cut-out method, but Vanessa can actually draw. Sometimes Brooke watches her sketch during lunch, her tongue sticking out slightly, brown eyes narrowed in focus, and Brooke forgets all about her own sandwich, filling her body with nothing but Vanessa. 

After ten guinea pig drawing tutorials and five unsuccessful attempts, Brooke spreads the successful poster board out on her long student tables. 

She glues white fake fur over the whole thing, adding little brown spots and googly-eye stickers and a pink nose until it looks like Bertha. It’s not as good as Vanessa’s, looking a bit like a potato with legs, but Brooke hopes Vanessa will understand that she wanted to help, wanted to cheer her up after this morning. 

When it’s lunch time, she tucks the board under her arm and knocks on Vanessa’s door. 

“Brooke?” Vanessa’s eyes drift to the board and narrow in confusion. 

“I made you a new guinea pig,” Brooke explains, showing Vanessa the board. “You were so upset about it, and I just...I wanted to help. I hope that’s okay.”

Vanessa’s hand goes to her mouth, and Brooke’s stomach writhes, certain she’s ruined things. She should have never done this, Vanessa hates her—

“Brooke, this is amazing!” 

“You like it?” 

“I really do. Thank you.” Her fingers brush against Brooke’s as she takes it, and Brooke’s body rushes with warmth. 

“Lunch?” She offers.

Vanessa nods. 

—-

Brooke hears some of the other teachers talking about the weather forecast, and the idea pops into her head. Something about Vanessa makes her want to be brave, want to take a chance like Nina always encourages. Brooke takes a deep breath and speaks before she loses her nerve.

“I was thinking, um, it’s supposed to be sunny tomorrow. Maybe we could take our kids out for a little picnic lunch?” 

Vanessa’s eyes light up, so bright Brooke almost melts at how adorable Vanessa is, especially when she claps her hands and grins. 

“I love that, Brooke! Let’s do it.” Her eyes take on a mischievous gleam. “What if me and you make lunch for each other?”

Brooke doesn’t stray too much in her food choices--mostly salads and sandwiches, leftovers of what she made for dinner. She likes routine, likes packing her lunch and knowing exactly what she’ll eat. But something about the prospect of Vanessa choosing things for her, taking the time to pick out what she thinks Brooke will like and packing it all up, makes her think a break from routine might be okay.

“Okay,” Brooke agrees. “Do you have any allergies I should know about? Picky about anything?”

“Ooh, I used to be picky like you wouldn’t believe. Survived a whole year on basically mac and cheese, chicken nuggets, and tortillas when I was four.” Vanessa laughs. “I’m not that picky anymore. No allergies either. PB and J, deli stuff, whatever. Just don’t feed me any broccoli.”

Brooke snorts. “I wouldn’t serve broccoli to my worst enemy. I don’t have any food allergies either.”

Vanessa reaches out her hand. “It’s a picnic date then.”

Brooke shakes it, Vanessa’s skin soft and smooth and warm, sending courage through Brooke’s heart. “It’s a date.”


	4. Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke and Vanessa have their picnic together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments and love you've been giving this fic, I really do appreciate it! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you Writ for being the best beta!

For the first time all spring, instead of a damp gray sky and rain drizzling down the windows, there’s nothing but soft pink sky and sun peeking hesitantly through her curtains, unsure if it should show itself. 

Brooke lets its glow warm her up. She’s used to rising before the sun does, armed with soothing British baking shows when she couldn’t get back to sleep in the early morning darkness. She takes the sun as a good sign this morning, that their picnic will be warm and happy and not filled with harsh winds or cold grass to soak their clothes. 

Brooke jumps out of bed and starts making Vanessa’s lunch. She pushes fruit through her star cookie-cutter and layers chicken on crusty bread, nestling it all in her kitten-covered lunch bag along with chips and brownies she made last night. She takes even more time than she would on her own lunch, wanting everything to be perfect, for each piece of fruit and each bite of chewy brownie to show Vanessa how much Brooke cares for her. 

She grabs a blanket and is on her way.

\---

The kids are off the wall leading up to lunch, and Brooke can’t blame them. It’s been so rainy and cold, after a particularly harsh winter, that they’ve been having indoor recess since Halloween. The gym just doesn’t carry the same excitement as the big green field behind the school, with a playground and basketball hoops and the promise of good times and grass stains. Sneakers squeak on tile as everyone sprints to their cubbies, and Brooke runs with them, grabbing Vanessa’s lunch and meeting her as they lead the kids outside. 

Sun warms their faces, a gentle breeze rustling bright green leaves above them. Brooke spreads her plaid blanket under a tree and gestures for Vanessa to sit. 

“So.” Vanessa grins smugly. “What did Chef Brooke prepare for me today?”

“Well…” Brooke plays along, acting like a contestant on _Chopped_ , “Today you will be dining on a roasted chicken sandwich featuring the finest bread from Shuga’s Bakery. You have triple-chocolate brownies, some potatoes thinly sliced and fried, and a fruit salad starring pineapple, mango, strawberries, and grapes.”

Vanessa’s eyes grow wider and wider as Brooke lists the items, until she bursts into applause and opens her lunch. “This looks so good, Brooke! Thank you.”

The heat in Brooke’s cheeks is enough to burn down a building.

The rocket ships on Vanessa’s lunch bag take flight as she glides it over to Brooke. “Now, I made you--hey, Joey, please don’t eat dirt!” Vanessa calls to one of her kids, who grumbles before leaving the dirt pile.

Brooke laughs and Vanessa nudges her shoulder playfully, the warmth of her touch burning through Brooke’s shirt. 

“As I was saying, I made you a sandwich with the finest pureed strawberries and a peanut spread, cut into a flower for presentation purposes. You also have a rustic trail mix of raisins, granola, oats, dried apricots, and chocolate chips, with carrot sticks and peanut butter cookies.”

The thought of Vanessa making cookies just for her sends Brooke’s heart fluttering like a bird. 

“Peanut butter and jelly is my favorite,” Brooke admits.

“I know. I mean, I’ve seen you eat it before,” Vanessa says quickly. Red bursts in her cheeks. “Shoot, don’t think I’m a stalker or something--”

“No, no. It’s sweet,” Brooke says truthfully. “I just--I didn’t think anyone really noticed me.”

“I’ve always noticed you,” Vanessa says. 

Brooke looks down at the blanket. She remembers her very first day teaching here, worried the other teachers wouldn’t like her, that the students wouldn’t like her, that she’d do something wrong and get fired. The panic only grew when she couldn’t find her classroom, completely lost in the maze of hallways and room numbers that followed no conceivable order, breathless with fear that her job at this school was over before it began. And then Vanessa rounded the corner, stopping and asking if she was okay, like she could sense Brooke’s distress. Vanessa reassured her that everyone got lost here, easily leading Brooke to the right class and fighting her fears away all the while. 

“Yeah, you have,” Brooke says, taking a bite of her sandwich. She wonders if Vanessa’s smile or the way she scooches closer means what Brooke wants it to mean. Maybe later she can ask Vanessa if she wants to do something. Maybe Vanessa really _does_ like her.

She and Vanessa talk about the “Welcome, Summer” decorations they’re planning--Vanessa’s thinking a beach theme and Brooke is planning ice cream--and apart from telling another student not to eat dirt, it’s almost romantic. 

\---

Vanessa helps Brooke bring some of the outdoor toys back to her room, her entire body buzzing from what she just did. _I’ve always noticed you_. Did she really say that to Brooke? Did Brooke smiling at her all through lunch mean what Vanessa wants it to mean?

She had been taken with Brooke the moment she saw her nervously roaming the hallways, hand tearing through her hair, looking utterly lost and confused. Brooke had tried to put on a good front, but Vanessa’s mom said she had a sixth sense with people’s emotions, and Vanessa knew Brooke was terrified. She made Brooke as comfortable as she could that day, and the warmth in her chest has only grown. Maybe she can ask Brooke out. Maybe Brooke would say yes. 

Vanessa carries the toy basket to the back of Brooke’s room, past the crayon rug and tidy bookshelf and dinosaur posters reminding the class to clean up and be kind. The other corner of the room catches Vanessa’s eye, and she investigates. 

Sitting on top of a tiny shelf is a cylinder—Vanessa’s no stranger to DIY, and she’s pretty sure it’s a repurposed coffee can—covered in red felt, with a plush red monster on top, jaws open to expose sharp white teeth. Pencils and small slips of paper lay next to it, meant to be put inside the monster’s mouth. According to the sign in Brooke’s neat handwriting, this is the Worry Monster. 

“You made this?” She asks Brooke. 

Brooke ducks her head. “Yeah. I tell the kids that if they’re worried about something, they can write it down and feed it to the monster, and then they don’t have to worry anymore.” She sighs. “I mean, I know it can’t work on everything, but if it helps them even a little, then it’s worth it, you know? I was always worried about stuff when I was a kid. Cried and got a lot of stomach aches. Something like this could’ve helped me.”

Vanessa’s glad she’s not the only one teaching to help a past version of herself. She works as much movement and activity as she can into her lessons, after so many years of being put in the corner because she just couldn’t sit still. It wasn’t until she was 13--after eight years of time-outs and missed recess and scolding and crying--that someone brought up ADHD and she got proper help. 

She can easily picture a nervous little Brooke, sniffling back tears or playing with her hair (like Brooke does now when she’s worried), struggling to focus through the worries in her mind that she didn’t know how to express. It warms her heart to know how much Brooke cares about her students, and that feeling of love for Brooke grows until she can’t fight it anymore. 

“I definitely get it. I try to help as much as I can too.” Vanessa leans in closer. “It’s nice that you care so much. It’s sweet.”

“You too.” Brooke smiles. “You’re always so good with your kids. I can tell how much they all love you. You’re a great teacher, Vanessa.”

Vanessa blushes. Brooke’s one of the best teachers Vanessa’s ever seen, and for her to have noticed Vanessa that way, to think she’s great, makes her so warm she might combust. 

“So are you.” She and Brooke huddle in closer. All she can see is Brooke, pale skin and blonde hair and summer-green eyes, and the question is out of her mouth before she can stop it. “Hey, Brooke? There’s this botanical garden in Smith Park, and I was wondering if you’d want to go with me tomorrow?”

She holds her breath as Brooke bites her lip, and Vanessa can see the wheels spinning in her mind. 

“I’d love to, Vanessa. Should I meet you tomorrow at 11?”

She’d love to. Brooke said she’d love to. Vanessa is so breathless with joy she can hardly answer, but she manages. It hasn’t even started yet, but she knows tomorrow will be the best weekend ever.


	5. Bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke and Vanessa visit a flower garden, and love blossoms between them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all the love and feedback on this! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you to Writ for betaing!

The Brooke that awaits Vanessa at the entrance to the botanical garden looks like a dream, one you desperately wanted to keep dreaming after waking up. Vanessa feels she’s really looking at Brooke this morning, rather than Ms. Hytes. Ms. Hytes is firm edges and professionalism in well-fitting pants and hip-hugging skirts and button-downs and soft sweaters. The woman in front of her is softer, skinny jeans roaming down long legs and rolled up above her Converse, the sleeves of her red and black flannel rolled back to reveal the gentle curve of her muscled forearms, a sight that makes Vanessa weak.

“Hi,” Brooke says shyly.

“Hi.” Vanessa smiles. “You weren’t waiting long, were you?” She would have been here five minutes ago if she didn’t get stuck over Facetime with A’keria and Silky trying to choose an outfit for today. A’keria suggested a boho-chic look, Silky told Vanessa to just “hoe it up”; they met in the middle with black leggings and an oversized purple tie-dye shirt under a jean jacket Vanessa can whip off to highlight her arms, considerably less toned than Brooke’s. 

“Oh, no. Just a few minutes. I’m always early for everything,” Brooke says, motioning for Vanessa to enter the garden. 

Vanessa gasps at the rainbow of flowers blooming in front of her. 

Deep purple violets trail up wooden arches above their heads. Buttery yellow daffodils spring from the sides, tickling her legs. Tulips in more shades Vanessa knew about--red and yellow and pink and orange--blossom in front of her. There are rows of light blue hyacinth and forget-me-nots, bursts of red roses, and explosions of reds, purples, blues, pinks, yellows, and whites in flowers Vanessa doesn’t recognize.

“Wow,” Brooke breathes. “This is beautiful.”

“Yeah.”

She and Brooke make their way through the flowers, and though their hands are close enough to touch, Vanessa holds back. 

“What’s your favorite flower?” Vanessa asks Brooke. 

“I really like those little white ones--um, lilies of the valley. They’re so tiny and white and perfect. My grandmother had bushes of them in her yard when I was a kid, and I could always smell them when I played.” She smiles, her eyes so warm Vanessa melts under their gaze. “Sometimes I still get that smell and I’m six again, y’know?”

“Yeah!” Vanessa agrees. “You ever smell something and it reminds you of something from like 20 years ago that you forgot? One time I opened a new eraser and I swear I was at the Scholastic book fair in kindergarten. I thought I still had my little pigtails and everything. Smell is wild.”

“God, the Scholastic book fair was the greatest thing ever.” Brooke sighs. 

“It really was,” Vanessa agrees. “I used to go for those fancy pencils and erasers. I’d to walk up to the pencil sharpener swinging my puppy pencil around like a model.” She peeks up at Brooke. “I bet you bought all the big books.”

“Maybe I did.” 

“Nerd,” Vanessa teases gently. Maybe it’s the flowers, but something has bloomed between them, some sort of change that makes talking so natural and fun. Brooke smiles as they move to an enormous rose bush and Vanessa squeals. 

“Are they your favorite?” Brooke asks. 

“Yeah. It’s cliche, but they’re just so pretty. My mom grew them and I’d pick them for her every summer.”

Fragrant red roses were the first sign of summer to her, even more than no school and a later bedtime and the ice cream truck coming around. Sno-Cone ice was crushed between her teeth as she watched the towering vines stretch toward the sun, waiting for roses to emerge. It wasn’t really summer until roses shot out of a vase on the kitchen table, until her fingers were covered in Band-Aids after being pricked by the thorns. 

“That’s cute,” Brooke says. 

Drunk on sunlight and the sweet scent of flowers, Vanessa blurts out, “You’re cute.”

Brooke’s cheeks flush so red it looks like she has sunburn. Her teeth dig into her lip. “I think you’re cute too,” she whispers as they move through the flowers. 

They walk and talk about movies, about their kids, about craft ideas, and everytime Brooke throws her head back when she laughs, or turns to Vanessa before she smiles, Vanessa feels the love blooming in her heart a little more deeply. 

\---

 _I think you’re cute too._

Brooke can hardly believe she told Vanessa that, but there’s something about Vanessa’s easy charm, her sheer joy, that makes Brooke brave, makes her want to take chances. She’s always been hesitant when it comes to her feelings, but she wants to let them bloom like the flowers, soak up the love from Vanessa and grow strong and bright. 

Things have never been this easy for her, with anyone. She’s been on a few dates (mostly ones she was strong-armed into by Nina), but they’ve always been awkward and boring, Brooke’s self-consciousness getting the best of her as she churned through small talk like battling through an ocean wave. But Vanessa is so easy to talk to, so fun and bright and sunny, like she’s learned how to make Brooke’s petals bloom upward, nurturing Brooke to grow along with her. 

They take pictures of each other against the brilliant flowers in full bloom, and when Vanessa poses in front of the roses, hand on her hip and teeth flashing in a full grin, Brooke has to put the phone in front of her face to hide her own smile. She gets a few candid pictures of Vanessa readjusting her pose, screeching at a bee and swatting it away, then wagging her finger and scolding it for daring to come near her. Brooke wishes the pictures were on her own phone, so she could look at them whenever she wanted, so she could treasure them always. 

“Brooke, will you do another one? The sun was in my eyes!”

“Of course.”

Brooke crouches down ( _‘Make sure you get my good angles!’_ ) and watches Vanessa smile on the phone screen, and Brooke knows the stirring in her heart that she’s pushed down for so long can’t be held back any longer. She’s already told Vanessa she thinks she’s cute, and for once, her overthinking brain is silent. 

Vanessa bounds up to Brooke and takes her phone back, then asks a woman to take a picture of them together. 

Vanessa’s tiny frame nestles perfectly against Brooke’s, her hair brushing Brooke’s shoulder. She smells sweet, even sweeter than the flowers, and the steady weight of her arm wrapped around Brooke’s waist makes her entire back tingle with warmth. She slips her own arm around Vanessa’s shoulders, pulling her in slightly, reluctant to ever let her go. 

“Hey, Vanessa?” Brooke whispers as they prepare for the picture.

“Yeah?”

“I really like you.”

Vanessa lifts her head to meet Brooke, eyes soft and warm and trusting. Her stomach twists, but she forces it to calm. “I really like you too.”

The woman somehow captures the exact moment they lock eyes, sharing smiles just for each other to see. Just like this day, Brooke knows she’ll treasure the picture forever.


	6. Birth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa's guinea pig has her babies, and Brooke and Vanessa are both there to see it happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your lovely comments on this fic! Glad you're all enjoying the fluff. Thank you Writ for betaing!

Brooke is still floating after her weekend with Vanessa, even after sitting through another boring faculty meeting. Brooke did her best to focus and take notes, but Vanessa was just across the table, her foot brushing against Brooke’s, and her notebook is empty. 

She and Vanessa head back to their classrooms, and Brooke is just grabbing her purse when Vanessa sprints in the room, hands on her knees to catch her breath. 

“Brooke, it’s Bertha. She—she’s having her babies, and I read all the instructions and talked to the vet and guinea pigs kinda give birth without any help but I just...can you stay with me?” 

Vanessa wants Brooke to stay with her. She wants _Brooke_ to stay with her, to be there and help her. Vanessa needs her, and Brooke loves being needed, loves the trust that led Vanessa to her. 

“Of course.” Brooke runs out of the room behind Vanessa, coming to a stop by the cage. Bertha doesn’t look any different, not that Brooke knows what to expect. She frantically Googles “guinea pig birth”, avoiding the overly-detailed images that pop up, and rattles off the information. 

“Okay, it says guinea pigs have three to four babies on average and don’t need any assistance unless they have more than 12. Then they might need some help cleaning the babies off.” 

“I really hope she doesn’t have 12 of them,” Vanessa mutters. She strokes Bertha’s back softly. “You can do it, Bertha. You’re doing a great job.” 

Vanessa bites her lip in concern, though, and seeing her usual confidence and charm gone, replaced with such uncertainty and fear, makes Brooke want to soothe her.

“Hey,” Brooke begins. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. And not to brag, but I _have_ seen every episode of _Call the Midwife_. We got this.” 

It works, Vanessa relenting with a smile before hesitant giggles burst from her, ones that Brooke shares in. 

According to Brooke’s phone, it takes about five minutes for each baby to be born, and she and Vanessa settle in. Vanessa offers soft encouragements to Bertha, and Brooke talks idly about her day, about successfully stopping a kid from eating glue and preventing scissors from becoming ninja stars in one afternoon, their breathing calm and in sync while they wait. 

“I think something’s happening!” Vanessa’s panicked hand flies toward Brooke’s, and Brooke takes it, letting their fingers intertwine, hoping her light squeeze helps calm Vanessa, make her feel loved. 

They both gasp when the first baby emerges, with little pink paws and silky brown-and-white swirled fur. 

“Look at it,” Vanessa breathes. Her eyes are wide and adoring, and Brooke’s heart thrums in her chest. She’s happy to be here with Vanessa, seeing these little babies enter the world. She’s never really been one for the whole “miracle of birth” thing—having a baby just isn’t for her--but watching the first baby open its eyes and discover the world feels special, like a gift, something the two of them get to share in forever. 

Bertha quickly delivers three more babies, cleaning them off and nudging them all to cuddle with each other. 

“Wow,” Vanessa whispers. “She just had four babies like nothing. And all on her own! You’re a strong single mother, Bertha!”

Brooke smiles and pats Bertha’s back. “You’re one strong guinea pig.” She smirks at Vanessa. “Congrats, grandma.”

Vanessa makes a sound somewhere between a whoop of laughter and a squeal of indignation. “Don’t even start!”

Brooke’s grin spreads wider. “And if they have babies, you’ll be a _great_ -grandma--”

This time Vanessa does squeal. “Great-grandma! Brooke, I’ll fight you!” she threatens, laughing so hard she stumbles against Brooke. 

“I think I’d win that fight,” Brooke teases. 

Vanessa shakes her head. “Nuh-uh! I’m scrappy.” She nestles in closer, her head against Brooke’s arm. The weight of it there is comforting, steadying, and Brooke could leave it there forever, could cuddle with Vanessa forever. “Besides, I can’t be a great-grandma looking like this.”

“Definitely not,” Brooke agrees. 

There’s a beat of silence, and then they’re so close, lips just a heartbeat away from something Brooke wants so badly, when the babies squeal, and the spell is broken. 

Vanessa gathers up her things and Brooke helps her carry the cage to her car so she can keep an eye on things overnight. 

“Hey, um, thank you, Brooke. I’m really happy I had you with me,” Vanessa says. 

“I’m happy I was there,” Brooke says honestly. She smiles. “And I’ve never seen a guinea pig give birth before! It was...don’t laugh, but it felt special.”

Vanessa smiles too, eyes peeking up from under her long lashes. “I wouldn’t laugh. It did feel special.” She darts in for a quick hug, arms a warm circle around Brooke. Brooke squeezes back, her chin resting on Vanessa’s head, the world filled with her coconut shampoo. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Brooke says. 

“See you.” Vanessa waves as she drives away, and Brooke just hopes Bertha likes Beyonce, currently blasting through Vanessa’s window. 

Brooke waves until her red car is just a speck in the distance. 

\---

Five guinea pigs squeal as Vanessa changes out the regular grass in their cage for the nutritious one the vet approved. 

Vanessa shushes them gently, and thinks about what she’ll do with all of them. She can check with the vet or a shelter about giving some to a family, or maybe…

She thinks of how good Brooke was today, standing by her side through it all, reading instructions in her even tone, holding Vanessa’s hand and comforting her. Brooke didn’t even let on how worried she was, though Vanessa could tell, like Brooke decided Vanessa was more important and just wanted to be there for her. There’s no one she would have rather had with her. 

Brooke was so delicate with the babies, so careful and encouraging of Bertha. Maybe Brooke would like a baby or two for her class. 

The thought fills her all night, even slipping into her dreams.

\---

Vanessa knocks on Brooke’s classroom door bright and early. Brooke’s face glows like the sun when she sees Vanessa, and her heart soars. 

“Hey, Vanessa. Are the babies doing okay?”

“Yep. I just hope none of the kids ask me how babies are made. I don’t have the strength for that at 9 in the morning.”

Brooke laughs with her, and Vanessa wants to hear that laugh for the rest of her laugh. She’s noticed Brooke doesn’t hesitate with it anymore, doesn’t look away when she smiles or laughs, like Brooke feels safe enough to express herself in front of Vanessa. 

“Hey, Brooke? I was thinking.” She takes a breath. “Would you want any of the babies for your class? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just wanted to ask.”

Brooke’s eyes grow wide. “You--are you sure? They’re yours, Vanessa. I wouldn’t want to take them on you.”

“I’m sure. You want to take the two girls and I’ll take the boys? It’d be good to keep them separate, because I don’t want to be a great-grandma any time soon.” She smiles to let Brooke know it’s okay, that she wants Brooke to have them. She knows Brooke will take care of them just as well as she will, that they’re safe in her hands. 

“Well, if you’re sure, I mean...I’d love to. Thank you, Vanessa.”

“Of course, Brooke. I’ll keep them with me a few weeks, just till they’re a little bigger. Then they’re all yours.”

“I know just what I’ll name them,” Brooke says. 

“What?”

“Rose and Lily. Your favorite flower, and mine.”

Vanessa knows then that Brooke is the one. Not just for the babies, but for herself too.


	7. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke and Vanessa finally confess their feelings for each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for sticking with this, your support means so much to me! I hope you enjoy the ending, and that this fic cheered you up a little with everything going on. Thank you so much to Writ for betaing and encouraging me with this whole thing, you're the best <3 <3.

There’s a mini botanical garden outside the main office when Brooke walks into school that morning. Nina captains the battered white table used for every bake sale, raffle, and talent show since the school opened, blue plastic tablecloth and glass jars stuffed with flowers hiding the various baked-good stains and scuffs from exasperated PTA parents forced to volunteer at said functions. 

Tiny hands cling carefully to their money as they shuffle their feet in line, excited whispers filling the hall. It’s a big day at Charles Elementary: the annual carnation sale, where you could have any flower in the color of your choice--green, red, pink, orange, or white--for the very low price of 25 cents each (one dollar for a bouquet of five).

It’s a big deal among the fifth-grade crowd, where giving someone a flower is basically asking for their hand in marriage. Brooke watches their intense gazes--at 10 and 11, they’re the oldest kids in school, yet still so young in the grand scheme of things--flicker toward the table, scouting out the flowers and wondering if their heart would be crushed or not today. There were always a few kids that wound up in the nurse’s office on carnation day, mumbling about stomach aches or headaches through heartbroken tears. 

Brooke can’t blame them. Fifth-grade heartbreak is brutal, and she’s grateful she’s with the younger kids. 

“You got your list, Brooke?” Nina prompts. 

Brooke realizes she’s at the front of the line, and whips out the list before a 10-year-old tries to fight her for getting in the way of their romance. 

“Here you go.” Brooke hands it over to Nina. 

Every year, she and Vanessa asked their kids to pick a color, and had that color flower waiting at their seat when they entered the class, her heart warming as their little faces lit up. This year, she’s asked Nina for two extra bouquets of red flowers, a little surprise for Vanessa. 

“Things are going well, then?” Nina asks as she gives Brooke the flowers. 

Brooke smiles, thinking of the flower garden and Bertha’s babies and their hug. “Really well, actually. Thanks, Nina.”

She grabs her flowers and is on her way for the next part of the plan, which requires Silky and A’keria, Vanessa's best friends. Silky was to call Vanessa in her room to look at something ( _‘let Silky do that part, she’s good at coming up with nonsense,’_ A’keria commanded), while A’keria offers to watch the classroom for her. Brooke arrives at Vanessa’s door and sees everything has gone to plan, with Vanessa gone and A’keria in the doorway.

Brooke darts around the room, sticking red carnations anywhere she can. One slipped in Vanessa’s mug. One in her top desk drawer, nestled among candy bars. One on her rocking chair, one on the game shelf, one taped beside the chalkboard. The red blooms among Vanessa’s already colorful room, the flowers bright reminders of Brooke’s love. Saying what she feels has always been hard for her, something she doesn’t have much practice with. But Vanessa makes her want to try, and she hopes the flowers are a good start, filling in the blanks where Brooke struggles to speak. 

“She’ll love that, her little romantic self,” A’keria says when Brooke finishes. “You know, she’s had some good partners and some not so good. But I got a good feeling about you, Miss Brooke.”

A’keria walks off, mumbling about “that cursed carnation sale,” and Brooke feels like she just got approval from some kind of goddess. 

\---

Vanessa gasps when she sees the carnations in her room, bright red almost blinding against the white cinder-block walls. She dodges questions from the kids asking if she has a secret admirer, because she knows who they’re from, and she doesn’t want things to be secret anymore. 

When lunch rolls around, she goes to Brooke’s room, armed with the craft she made last night and the carnations she got this morning, ready to tell Brooke that being with her makes the sun shine brighter and the flowers grow higher, that her heart leaps when they look at each other, every part of Vanessa blooming along with Brooke.

“Got all your flowers. I love them, Brooke. Even though I almost sat on the one on my desk chair.” She grins, the gesture returned as she steps closer to Brooke. 

“You did?” Brooke is so hopeful, so hesitant, that Vanessa knows the time is right to be truthful, to let Brooke know so she doesn’t have to doubt anymore. 

“I did. I have something for you too.” First she gives Brooke the real bouquet, red, white, pink, and orange carnations swirled together. Then she gives her the craft one, thin dowel rods covered in green construction paper, with blossoms in the same colors as the carnations exploding from the tips. She knows Brooke has admired her bi flag before, and she decided to make Brooke flowers colored like a lesbian flag for her, a tiny way for her to express herself. 

Brooke’s eyes widen, her lips parting slightly, and Vanessa knows she understands the meaning and all the love Vanessa put into it. 

“They’re beautiful, Vanessa. I love them so much.” She sticks the craft ones in her mug happily, holding the real ones close to her chest before putting them down and taking Vanessa’s hands. “Vanessa, um, I wanted to do the flowers to show you how I feel. I know it’s hard for me to talk about my feelings sometimes, but the way I feel with you...you make me want to express it. I want to be with you all the time, see you smile and everything. I think I might love you.”

Vanessa takes a breath, squeezing Brooke’s hands tightly. “You know, that was pretty good for someone who struggles with their feelings.” She wants to get that gentle tease in there, enough to calm Brooke and let her know Vanessa feels the same way. “I want to be with you too, Brooke. You’re so smart and creative and caring, and one of the sweetest people I know. I might love you too.”

She has to stretch up on her toes to meet Brooke’s lips, but the effort is worth it. Brooke’s lips are as soft and warm as the pets she gives Bertha, as delicate as the crafts she cuts out. Vanessa’s body curves toward Brooke, a flower bending toward the sun, letting her arms trace the gentle curves of Brooke’s back. 

The bell rings, signaling that lunch has officially started. Vanessa is perfectly fine with kisses for lunch, letting Brooke’s love fill her up, but her stomach betrays her with a rumble. 

“Let’s go eat,” Brooke suggests, taking Vanessa’s hand.

They walk down the hall hand-in-hand, sun bursting through the windows to guide them.


End file.
